The Huntress

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by Dawn Robertson


  “This is the party of the century, you realize that right?” Joseph beams, his bright blue eyes lighting up. He is a tall, good-looking man, and definitely spends a lot of time at the gym. His dark brown hair is always messy but in that professional, sexy kind of way. His claim to fame is being one of the major Hollywood publicists, which is how we met a few years back. I’ve always thought about giving him a shot at handling my public matters, but I always go by the rule of never sleeping with anyone you work with. It just clouds your judgment and adds an uncomfortable factor to things. That is why things between me and Linc work. There is no worry about a sexual relationship; yes he is super sexy, but he is also super unavailable. We keep our love lives separate from our work relationship—well, mainly he does. There isn’t a move I make without him knowing. Shit, why did I get so off track thinking about him?

  “Are you listening, Ellie?” Joseph asks, and I snap back to reality.

  “Sorry, I totally spaced out! I’m exhausted.” I make up an excuse because the fact of the matter is, I was being really rude.

  “Late night at your event huh? I heard you hit a fundraising record.”

  “A whole eight hundred and sixty thousand dollars.” I smile at the final total, which Linc texted to me sometime in the middle of the night.

  The conversation flows cordially between us for quite some time, spanning everything from work to the latest celebrity gossip in the circle we run with. It is good to relax and just be me with someone for a couple hours, and with Joseph I know I can. He is one of the very few people I feel comfortable enough with. It is hard for me to connect with too many people, but I hear most people are like that, not just us damaged cases.

  The SUV comes to a stop in front of the Seattle Four Seasons and I’m pretty sure Joseph did that on purpose.

  “Oh what a coincidence!” I laugh.

  “We have the penthouse,” he adds with a sly grin.

  “Where is the event tonight?” I ask, wondering where exactly our formal dinner will be held tonight. The club we are involved with has a routine for these types of weekends. The first night is a fancy VIP dinner at some local eatery in the city we all choose to descend on. It gives everyone the opportunity to see exactly who is here for the weekend, have their interest sparked, and connect with any of the newcomers—though those are few and far between. It isn’t easy to join; in fact, you need an invitation from a member to even begin the process.

  The second night is the actual party.

  “Dinner will be at The Art of the Table. We’ve rented the entire venue out for the night. We are hoping that will help keep the paparazzi at bay. They typically aren’t bad here in Seattle, but you know how they can sniff virtually anyone out.” It’s true, and I have just become comfortable with that fact. It is a constant, but in all actuality, I don’t mind it all that much. It has become such second nature for me to be picture perfect at all times, and it has saved my ass quite a few times actually.

  “That sounds delicious,” I admit. God I’m hungry.

  We quickly walk through the hotel without having to stop at the front desk; Joseph has already been here for a couple days. Being one of the heads of the club we are part of, he is an organizer. It was smart of him to turn the opportunity into a somewhat lucrative business. That is one of the reasons I enjoy his company so much: he is a money-making genius, always looking at things from a business perspective, contemplating how to turn something into income.

  “Tell me you ordered room service,” I beg in the elevator on the way up.

  “Even better.” He laughs as the elevator doors begin to open into the penthouse suite of the hotel. I can smell it at first, and as I round the corner, I see my hands down favorite Seattle meal of all damn time.

  “Oh my god! You got me the grilled PB&J from Skillet!” I yell like a child through the suite. I’m so beyond excited. I crave this sandwich all months of the year. It was so thoughtful of him to remember that. Normal women would probably appreciate this and throw themselves at the guy in question, but I’m not normal. I feel like I should want to give him more, but something inside me is just broken.

  “There are some Top Pot Doughnuts too,” Joseph adds. Food is the key to my heart, especially doughnuts—they are like little mini rings of heaven. All my crankiness melts away as I dive into the platter of treats. It may only be noon in Seattle, but once I fill my belly, I take a nap before getting up and preparing for dinner.

  ***

  Joseph and I sit at a table for two tucked away in the back corner of the restaurant. The crowd consists of about sixty people, mostly couples, but there are a couple singles here and there. People mingle around the room, some enjoying a meal, and some just a glass of wine. Everyone does these things differently, and most are creatures of habit. It is my job to notice these things, but it also comes in handy with social situations. Being able to read a person was part of the training I went through after high school.

  I sit, enjoying my wild marbled king salmon with a glass of water. Long ago, I decided to never drink at an event of this nature. There may have been an incident once upon a time…

  “You ever think you’ll settle down?” Joseph’s question catches me off guard a little bit. Does he really want to go there?

  “Really?” I ask him, making sure he really wants to get into this with me.

  “I know we’ve always had that unspoken line between us. I’m not trying to cross that, Ellie, it’s just that most women your age are ready to settle down.” I guess he is right. Most girls grow up wanting to have babies and get married—in a different order or some shit, but you know…they want that whole package.

  “It just doesn’t appeal to me I guess.” I shrug my shoulders and take a bite of my dinner. “A lot of women have those instincts, I just don’t I guess. I’m more of a loner. I enjoy my time to myself.” This is the most we’ve spoken in this type of depth.

  “Well, if you ever change your mind, I hope you do keep me in mind,” Joseph says as Jacqueline Taylor walks up to our table for small talk. She isn’t bad on the eyes; occasionally I may have had her between my legs. The former Playboy Playmate turned soap opera star has gorgeous mahogany hair with bright blonde highlights throughout, beautifully round DD tits, and these hazel eyes that would make any man fall to their knees. She is a prize for the weekend, that is for sure.

  “And how has my favorite lawyer been doing?” Jackie asks while leaning in for a hug.

  “Oh ya know, busy…tired as hell. Needed a little R&R time.” I laugh.

  “I hope to spend some time with you tomorrow night,” she says, but I’m just not feeling it this weekend. I’m feeling more of a multiple dick situation, no offense to her. Maybe I’ll let her watch?

  “We’ll see what I’m in the mood for tomorrow night, love,” I say as she turns to make more rounds around the dining room. I gaze around the room and try to find my prey. Of course Joseph will be involved in whatever encounter I have, but I want to add a couple more guys to the mix. Sex is an outlet for me, a means to cope with just how fucked up I am mentally. I mean, a lot of people have some deep shit going on, but the only time I can ever forget about the real world is when I’m having sex. At a young age, I started using sex to cope with emotions I didn’t know how to handle, and have continued to use it as a crutch ever since. It is my way of dealing with shit…even if it isn’t really dealing, it’s more of a way to forget for just a little bit.

  “I was thinking about Eric Banner,” I say to Joseph. The singer is easy on the eyes, but the sea of tattoos is really what made me look in his direction. “Maybe some Shane Thomas too.” I let out a laugh when I say it. I’m just gonna keep piling them on; poor Joseph has no idea what he got himself into this weekend. We’ve played with Shane in the past. His claim to fame? Being the vice president’s son.

  “What about Calvin Gregory?” Joseph asks.

  “Oh I could totally add him into the swing of things. This is turning into quite the gang bang!�
� I’m excited. As bad as it sounds, I’m downright fucking giddy. The thirty-something-year-old game show host looks like your average boy next door—bleached blond surfer locks and eyes as blue as the Caribbean ocean—but what really gets me going is the fact that tomorrow night I will get banged by four different guys at one time. Don’t hate! Sometimes you just have to let your hair down and get fucked. Some people like scrapbooking, I like banging…though maybe that is a ridiculous comparison.

  “I’m sure you can put that all together. If you want to bring in maybe one other woman, you can.” I give in a little bit because I am asking a lot of Joseph as a completely straight male to not get as much pleasure as I will be for the night.

  “Well aren’t you a sweetheart this weekend,” he jokes with me. “How about Claire Daniels?” It’s not a name I am familiar with at all. I tip my head to the side and nod in his direction for the introduction.

  “She’s sitting two tables over. That redhead, real petite, tight as fuck.” His explanation doesn’t ask my biggest question.

  “What’s she do?” Jobs and stature are important to me; color me a snob.

  “Oh, she is the first female dispensary owner here in Seattle.” And it all makes sense. Her Mother Earth type look is cute in that crunchy hippy way, with a little hint of hipster from the thick black-framed glasses she wears.

  “I’ll have to see her naked first,” I admit. It could be a total deal breaker for me. I have standards when it comes to the vaginas I play with. I let out a bit of a laugh to lighten the mood. This time tomorrow night I will finally be able to let my hair down and do exactly what I came here for.

  ***

  Walking into the W Hotel in downtown Seattle, you would never believe what would be taking place on the top two floors for the evening. These parties take place in all kinds of swanky establishments, private homes, and places you would least expect them. Joseph and I walk in hand in hand like a king with his queen and quickly make our rounds around the room. A full bar with a wait staff is in the far corner close to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The tile flooring glistens under the bright track lighting of the penthouse floor.

  Tonight I chose a short skintight white dress made by a good friend of mine who just so happens to be an up-and-coming fashion designer in the south of France. Her designs are tasteful but sexy. I matched the dress with a pair of navy blue stiletto pumps and a long blonde wig. I have an extensive collection of wigs and love to wear them, especially when I go out on a job. For these events, they just keep things fun.

  Last night before Joseph left the dinner meet and greet, he secured the men I had an appetite for. Going above and beyond, he also somehow figured out how to get a picture of Claire’s delicious little snatch. Grade A pussy, that was for sure. It doesn’t get any better than having the best of both worlds. Clarie, Joseph, Shane, Calvin, and Eric…two women, four men…now that is one hell of a gang bang! We make our rounds, socializing with everyone as we find our way to the suite’s bedroom where we will have our privacy for the night. Not all of these parties are a free for all. I’m sure by the end of the night there will be naked people in various sexual positions around the room, but for now it is just a casual cocktail hour.

  “Nervous?” Joseph asks.

  “Of course not, don’t be silly,” I sass him back. Me? Nervous? Never!

  I’ve done this a thousand times. I live for this shit.

  “Well, then let’s get this party started, shall we?” Joseph hooks his elbow with mine and we make our way into the suite. There are various pieces of furniture around the room: an oversized bed, a chaise lounge, two sitting chairs, and an armless sofa. A wet bar in the corner is fully stocked, including edibles and the finest marijuana bud in all of Seattle.

  “Oh how wonderful is this?” I say, taking a bite out of a pot-filled chocolate bar. It is absolutely to die for, and I know it will kick in just about the time I am really needing a little courage.

  “Why don’t you indulge? I’m going to hunt down our other friends,” he says while making his way to the door.

  “No need to find me,” Shane says, walking around the corner. He is wearing khaki shorts and a button-down shirt, nothing fancy by any means, but he looks to die for.

  “You go round up the rest, Ellie and I will get a little cozy,” he says with a devilish look in his eyes. Shane is the epitome of political royalty. His dark brown hair is cut short and styled perfectly to the side, and his full lips look ever so kissable.

  “You know I’ve been waiting for this for a while,” I admit to him.

  “Not as long as I have,” he adds while taking a few steps in my direction and wrapping his muscular arm around my waist. “I hope this is okay…” He trails off while looking down at me. Even in my nearly six-inch stilettos, he towers over me.

  Looking up at him completely doe eyed, I just nod while batting my eyelashes at him. Something about a man with such power wanting me has stunned me into being almost bashful. Am I getting soft? I laugh to myself and continue smiling while looking up at him. Seconds seem like an eternity before he finally goes in for a kiss. His lips are soft and warm, and he tastes like straight whiskey. His tongue invades my mouth, sweeping against mine over and over again as his hands begin to wander over my curves and his fingers begin to tug on the zipper of my dress.

  “Why don’t you take this off?” he asks, breaking our kiss. “And sit on the bed…right on the edge, completely naked.” My lips make a mischievous grin as I nod and follow his instructions. Gone is the Ellie that is full of business and telling other people what to do. Now I am here and ready to be told exactly what I should be doing for the rest of the night.

  I slide my dress the rest of the way off, stepping out of it and leaving it right there on the floor. All that is left is my tiny excuse for panties, a thin, black silk thong. I take a few steps over to the bed and sit on the edge before slipping my panties down my smooth tan legs.

  “Good girl,” Shane says, walking in my direction once again.

  “I’m going to take my hard cock out, and I’m gonna need you to suck it for me.” As the words leave his mouth, his hands take action, slowly pulling his cock out of his shorts before letting them fall to the floor. I lick my lips in anticipation of this gorgeous cock, all eight inches of it. It is always a pleasant surprise when the good-looking ones actually have a decent dick to work with. Just as the tip of his dick comes in contact with my waiting lips, the door opens and Joseph appears with the rest of our dates for the evening.

  “Looks like y’all didn’t waste any time getting started,” Calvin says with his southern twang.

  “No small talk, just get naked.” Shane laughs as he pushes his cock between my lips again. I ignore everything else going on in the room and continue to suck his dick. My hands work his shaft while I suck gently on the head of his cock. My eyes close while enjoying the sensation of pleasing him when I feel hands start to part my legs, exposing my wet and waiting pussy. Expecting fingers or a cock, I get a pleasant surprise when a cool tongue slides across my clit. Slowly opening my eyes, I see Claire between my legs, an even more pleasant surprise.

  “Back away,” Joseph says to Shane. “Let’s watch this for a minute…” All four men step away and watch as the beautiful woman goes to town on me—and boy does she know what she’s doing! My eyes roll back in my head in pure ecstasy.

  “Fuck,” I whisper, opening my eyes to look at the audience. All four men are standing there buck ass naked and stroking their cocks, just waiting for their chance to fuck.

  “Condoms boys!” I yelp as she nibbles on my clit.

  Pulling a handful of condoms from the bowl on the bedside table, they all start to stretch them down their lengths. All the men have pretty impressive cocks, Joseph being the smallest at an average six-ish inches. I can’t wait to start taking them one by one.

  ***

  As the night goes on we fuck, suck, and do God knows what for hours. I have more orgasms than I can count on bot
h of my hands combined. At one point in time I have three dicks inside me. I ride Calvin while Joseph fucks my ass and Shane fucks my mouth. It is glorious, but the most lonely feeling in the world is when you start to come down from it. The sub-drop is probably the worst I have ever experienced. I don’t know whether I am coming or going. Joseph panics and calls Linc to come get me from Seattle. I don’t remember much of it, but I know it’s a feeling I won’t soon forget.

  “You are going to be the death of me,” Linc says while I sit in his lap on the private jet back to Boston. He wraps me up in a fleece blanket and won’t let me go until we were back home. It seems to be everything I need, and everything I wouldn’t let Joseph do back in Seattle. I’m stubborn, what can I say? He tried to take care of me but I continued to push him away and insist I was just fine. My typical hard ass attitude only bit me in the ass.

  “I didn’t think this would happen. It has been years since I’ve had a sub-drop like this. It’s bullshit,” I try to explain myself to him.

  “Maybe it’s just time to give all that up?” he suggests, and I balk.

  “No way. One bad experience isn’t going to make me give this up for good. Come on! That just isn’t realistic.”

  “It’s just a suggestion Eleanor. I care.” He shrugs his shoulders and leaves the conversation alone, but the thought of leaving it all behind sticks in my mind for far longer than it should. These events have been glorious releases for me after big jobs, but are they becoming more trouble than they’re worth?

  Chapter 7

  Unexpected and Unwanted

  Remy

  Sitting in my home office, I start to look over my notes from my meeting with James Coldwell and his daughter. I am always optimistic with my clients, but this one tastes the cake for sure. Layla is a newlywed and caught her husband with another woman because of Facebook messages—I mean, the jerk deserved to be caught if social media was his downfall. So, she got drunk off Old English—the classiest of classy—and backed up over the poor bastard in their driveway only two months after they moved in. The dimwit is obviously guilty, but it’s my job to make sure no one else ever knows that. As far as the rest of the world is going to be concerned, Layla Coldwell is a sweet-natured woman on the brink of starting her life as a young widow from a terrible accident, not a crazy lush with a heavy foot and a complete disregard for the use of her backup camera. It is going to be one of the biggest challenges of my career, but if OJ could get away with murder, why can’t my client? Plus it would make me a shit ton of fuckin’ money.

 

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